Fallout (Season 4, Episode 10)
by bionic4ever
Summary: (Season 4, Episode 10) A discovery in Rudy's lab threatens everyone's safety...and could Steve and Jaime actually be a danger to each other? Thank you, as always, to The Bionic Project!
1. Chapter 1

**FALLOUT**(Season 4, Episode 10)

Chapter 1

Jack Hansen stormed into Oscar's office at OSI-Los Angeles with a style of fury that was all his own: something akin to a cross between a hurricane, a tornado and a tsunami - and he was aiming all of it at Oscar. ''Goldman! Are you aware that yesterday morning, two of _your _agents went off and -''

''Good morning, Jack!'' Oscar said with ironic enthusiasm. ''Always great to see you. And what can the OSI assist you with today?''

Hansen scowled. ''Yesterday morning, two of your operatives ran off and got married. _Married!_''

''Coffee, Jack?'' Oscar offered. (He took his fun where he could get it and this morning, annoying Jack with niceties topped his list.) ''If you're talking about Colonel Austin and his new bride, yes - I'm fully aware of it. But Jaime is _not _currently on my operative rolls; even if she was, show me anywhere that it's written that they're not allowed to marry like any other two people in love.''

''Well, I don't like it!'' Hansen declared.

_Is there anything you __**do**__ like, Jack,_ Oscar thought to himself, _besides pushing every one of my buttons_? ''Thank you so much for the morning update, Jack. Is there anything else?'' he said out loud instead.

''Now that the Kingsley case is wrapping up, I'll be headed back to Washington today,'' Hansen told him. ''What about you?''

''I think I'll be staying here a little longer, just until Russ is fully on his feet again.''

''And who is running your Washington bureau while you're out here in Sunny California?''

''I'm fully capable of overseeing _both _offices from here...but once again, thank you for your concern. Is there anything else I can do for you, this morning?''

''If I think of anything, I'll be back,'' Hansen promised.

''Always a pleasure, Jack!'' Oscar called as the NSB head finally left his office. He was only alone for a matter of minutes before Mark Conrad (the OSI's PTSD specialist) poked his head in the doorway.

''All clear?'' Mark asked. ''Safe to come in now?'' Mark was making his rounds, checking on each one of his patients - whether they considered themselves patients or not. Grant Kingsley had put everyone through physical and emotional hell for more than two month - and it was Mark's job to make sure the victims were functioning as normally as possible on their personal paths to becoming whole again. He asked Oscar all the usual questions: any trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, any nightmares? Oscar fielded each question patiently and gave all the 'right' answers. Of all of his patients, Mark was least worried about Oscar because even though he'd been held as a hostage at one point by the psychopathic 'genius', he'd been through so many similar situations in his career that handling trauma was almost second nature to him. Still, the PTSD doctor kept a close eye on him, just to be sure.

Each man wondered if the other knew about Jaime and Steve's elopement. They weren't hiding it, exactly...but they weren't announcing it either. Mark had figured it out by the rings on their fingers...and Oscar (of course) found out through his Intelligence sources (as the Austins probably knew that he would, eventually).

''I saw Steve and Jaime last night,'' Mark began, tentatively touching on the subject that was on both of their minds.

Oscar knew that 'last night' would've been after the elopement. ''And how are they doing?'' he asked.

''They seemed...happy.''

Oscar gave the therapist a knowing wink. ''Happier than usual, I'm guessing.''

It was out there, untouched, unsaid...but they both _knew_. ''Steve's getting his cast changed today for a lighter one, then he and Jaime should be hitting the track at National Medical, if you wanted to see them,'' Mark offered.

''I'll be there.''

Mark gave the OSI boss a conspiratorial grin. ''So will I.'' Both men were wondering the same thing - whether they should congratulate the happy couple...or wring their necks!

* * *

Russ admitted to Mark that yes, he was still having flashbacks; they happened almost every morning, when he got ready for the day and placed his weapon inside his suit pocket. His 'trigger' for these flashbacks was clearly the gun itself, similar to the one Russ had used to abduct Oscar when he was under the command of Kingsley's mind control device. He was using Mark's advised coping strategies now, though - turning on loud music, biting a lemon, holding an ice cube - and was managing to keep himself grounded and ward off the worst of what his mind was trying to re-live. For all intents and purposes (especially considering all he'd been through), Russ was on the right track.

* * *

Rudy spent the morning in his lab with Graham Kingsley, dissecting the inner workings of his twin's mind control devices. They'd been there together since before dawn, fascinated by the intricate circuitry...and terrified by the madness that had brought these devices to life. Before removing the power pack (that had been stolen from Jaime's leg) from the smaller device, Rudy switched it on, carefully pointed it toward the floor and turned the dial. There appeared to be more than two dozen separate frequencies - one for each person Grant had stolen control from (to use in his personal army of terror). Each frequency elicited only a dull buzz (which Rudy and Graham both hypothesized would mean the 'subject' was no longer under the device's control). Every frequency was the same...except for one. When Rudy turned the dial to '03', the buzz grew louder and the digital indicator flashed the number '03'. Both men looked at each other with wide eyes.

_One of 'them' was still out there, under Grant's personal control...and Grant himself was dead!_

''Try talking into the speaker,'' Rudy suggested to Graham. ''Tell whoever this '03' is to turn himself in to his or her local police.''

Graham shook his head. ''If I know my brother, this device is tuned so the subjects will listen to his voice alone. We have different accents, different inflections. Doctor Wells, I think we have a _big _problem on our hands!''


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

''Tell me _anything_you can about this device - or your brother's way of thinking - that might shed light on this, please!'' Rudy told Graham.

''I never could quite understand how Grant's mind worked. He was egocentric to the 'n'th degree - which is why I'm certain his victims were programmed to only respond to his voice. I can't even begin to mimic him, after so many years apart! My best guess is that whoever this victim number '03' is, they'll continue trying to carry out whatever their last command was - over and over - until they're found, stopped...or killed.''

''He could've hit anyone...anywhere...'' Rudy said with horror. ''He seemed to focus mainly on our staff here at the hospital though, and the Security detail.'' He told Graham about Michael's compound and how it had worked on all of the subjects/victims they'd managed to find. They'd all been rounded up mostly by the blank looks on their faces, but obviously someone had been missed - or the subject was outside the boundaries of National Medical. Either way, Oscar would have to be notified immediately.

* * *

''Your arm is healing nicely,'' Michael told Steve. ''Even better than we'd hoped. A few weeks in this lighter cast - a month at the most - and you should be good as new. Or at least, ready to exercise it again and _get_ it good as new.'' He had noticed the shiny new rings that Steve and Jaime were sporting, but just like everyone else he would wait for the couple themselves to bring it up...which was driving Jaime _crazy_.

_Are they __**blind**__?_ she wondered. They'd just finished examining, x-raying and re-casting Steve's _left_ arm! Surely they'd noticed the ring! It was bold, shiny...and _there_!

''Rudy's tied up in the lab and won't be able to join us on the track,'' Michael told them both, ''but let's head out there and get started. You'll both take a warm-up at a comfortable jog. Then Steve - I want you to do the next lap at a nice, easy run. Nothing bionically-paced; just run. And if you feel any pain at all, I want you to slow to a walk and head straight in. Jaime - you'll go full-out until I stop you.'' He pretended not to notice that Jaime had stuck out her tongue as he ushered them both outside.

* * *

Oscar had come to National Medical to watch Jaime work out, to assess her (physical) readiness to return to work...or to be trained for the job. Instead, he found himself urgently summoned to Rudy's lab. Rudy and Graham filled him in on what they'd discovered...and Oscar's face paled at the thought.

''Will the device's control eventually just wear off?'' Oscar wondered hopefully.

''I doubt it,'' Graham told him. ''I'm sure my brother programmed plenty of fail-safes into those chips. But I've found no tracking system - no way to _find_ the individual victims - so the device must not depend on their locations in order to work effectively. Once he assumed control of their minds, he _had_them...no matter where they went. And I'm going to assume they went exactly where he told them to go.''

''What if you remove the power pack - which would disable the device, I assume - and then destroy the whole thing?'' Oscar suggested. ''Just crush it to pieces?''

Graham shook his head. ''You'd still be left with a victim out there somewhere, stuck on their last command until the voice they've been programmed to obey tells them differently. Doctor Wells filled me in on the 'concussive compound' developed by Doctor Marchetti and that would certainly work - if you can find the victim.''

* * *

Mark Conrad did make it out to the track, just as Jaime took off at full-speed. Michael nodded to him, his eyes on the stopwatch and his patients. ''So I'd imagine if they told anyone beforehand, it would've been you,'' Michael said quietly (making sure Jaime was on the far side and couldn't hear him). ''I saw the rings. Are they _real_...an early April Fools joke...or just an exercise in 'what if'?''

''They haven't told me anything either,'' Mark answered, ''but I'm pretty sure they're real.''

''I'm glad,'' Michael said, meaning it. ''They're good for each other.''

''I just hope they didn't jump the gun...'' Mark replied. ''I know they were planning a wedding anyhow, but just a couple of days ago they both assured me they weren't going to...do this. Yes, I'm happy for them. At the same time, I'm scared to death that their issues could surface at any time and tear them apart. They've come a very long way in terms of progress with me, but they aren't to the Finish Line yet. Not by a long shot.''

''This has nothing to do with whether they were ready for an early wedding or not," Michael said, thinking out loud, ''and I agree it's better for _both_of them to have each other to lean on...but if one of them has a flashback, could they possibly trigger the other?''

''They know how to pull each other out of an episode - and they know how to stop one for themselves - but you just hit the nail square on the head, my friend. Worst case scenario, yes; that absolutely _could_ happen...''

* * *

'03' stood in his assigned place at National Medical, 'maintaining the appearance of normalcy' as instructed. His regularly-assigned weapon was in its proper place and the rear of his waistband (hidden by his jacket) held a tranquilizer gun. He was ready to carry out his orders.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Oscar headed back to his office at OSI-Los Angeles, after dispatching a security guard to 'request' that Jaime and Steve join him there when they were finished at the track with Michael. ''Kinda strange,'' Jaime mused as she drove. ''If he was already at National, why didn't he just talk to us there? Is this...normal?''

''Not exactly,'' Steve admitted. ''Sort of feels like being called to the Principal's Office, doesn't it?''

''Yeah...except this Principal confiscates munitions and nuclear weapons from the bad little boys, instead of squirt guns and sling shots.''

Oscar was waiting for them, coffee mugs in hand. He smiled at Jaime as he handed her the mug that also contained a spoonful of cocoa...and he couldn't miss the way the sun through the window glinted off of her diamond and the gold band that now sat directly beneath it on her finger. _That_was his first order of business.

''So, I understand congratulations are in order,'' Oscar began, once he'd returned to his desk.

''Thank you!'' Jaime answered brightly.

''_But_ we're not quite ready to pop the cork on the champagne bottle just yet. I really wish the two of you would have come and spoken with me first, before doing this.''

''Excuse me?'' Steve asked, more than slightly ruffled. ''You expected us to ask permission first?''

''Of course not. But you need to realize that by being married, you become more of a target - separately and together - since you can be used as leverage against each other by anyone who might try and grab you,'' Oscar explained.

''And being bionic doesn't already put giant neon targets over our heads saying _take me_?'' Steve argued...then his voice softened. ''Sorry, Sweetheart,'' he told Jaime.

''It's the reason every Intelligence agency in this country discourages marriage between operatives,'' Oscar pointed out.

''_Discourages_ doesn't mean _forbids_, Oscar,'' Steve told him. ''Besides, Jaime isn't an operative.''

''Yet...'' Jaime pointed out.

''I called you in to make sure you were both aware of the risks,'' Oscar continued. ''Now that you are, we can move on.'' He hadn't intended to get into a verbal joust with Steve. He smiled at them both as he explained the next reason he'd needed to speak with them. Rudy and Michael had told him that Jaime was the picture of health - nearly up to full strength again both physically and bionically and her bullet wound completely healed. He'd also received glowing reports from Mark Conrad about Jaime's continued progress working with him. And Jaime's own impassioned plea to him two days ago had shown Oscar that she still had the instinct, intelligence and _fire _to become as much of a key operative as her new husband. It was time to begin her training once again. (Technically, it would be re-training, but with the memory of the three years she'd worked for the OSI wiped away when she'd awakened from the car crash and thought she'd just been skydiving, Jaime had to re-learn most of the skills that had once been second nature to her.)

''That is,'' he concluded, ''if you're still interested.''

''Interested? Oscar, I'm so happy! Thank you!''

''You can start start training right away. If you'd prefer, I can appoint a different trainer for you,'' Oscar suggested, ''since you seem to have run off and married your last trainer...''

''We'll be fine,'' Steve promised.

''Alright; keep me posted on her progress, Steve - and welcome aboard, Jaime.'' He smiled warmly at them both...and then his smile faded. Oscar had one more item of business to talk to them about and he began slowly. He told them about Rudy and Graham's work with Grant Kingsley's mind control devices and that it was believed one of Grant's victims was still out there...under the control of someone who would never issue another command. Jaime grew pale and very quiet as she listened. Steve reached over and took her hand.

''I thought our people rounded them all up, after Kingsley was killed,'' Steve pondered.

''So did we,'' Oscar replied. ''Unfortunately, it appears we missed one. We're not sure why. He or she may not be located at the hospital - although we 'swept' this building too - or possibly the subject in question was more malleable, better able to be programmed to appear 'normal'. In any case, I felt you should both be warned immediately, since you were two of Kingsley's primary targets. Rudy and Graham believe this subject is 'stuck' on whatever his or her last order was and that may - or may not - involve coming after the two of you. Stay alert and watch out for each other - and yourselves.''

* * *

It had been another non-productive shift for '03'. When he was finished, he found a payphone and dialed the number programmed into his brain to make his daily report. As usual lately, there was no answer...but he knew not to be alarmed. He'd been told (or rather, programmed) that there might often not _be_ an answer. He would simply keep doing what he was doing, reporting each night for his 12 hour shift until he was able to catch one of his targets alone - and then he'd carry out the next portion of his orders.

* * *

''A _**gun**__?_'' Jaime looked in horror at the small case that Steve was extending to her. ''I don't want - or need - a gun!''

''Whether you actually carry it or not is something you can take up with Oscar,'' Steve explained. ''My job is to make sure you know how to handle and - more importantly - _use_ it, if necessary.''

''But I don't _want_-''

''Doesn't matter, Sweetheart. All part of training. I have to sign off on this once you're proficient to the OSI's standards. After that, like I said, take it up with Oscar.''

Steve had wisely waited until they were due for a visit from Mark Conrad before bringing out Jaime's newly-issued gun...just in case the sight of it (or, more likely, hearing it fire) might trigger a flashback in one or both of them. Mark was right on time and the trio headed off for the OSI shooting range, with Jaime reiterating the entire ride there that she didn't need, want or have any interest in using a gun. Still, she paid dutiful attention as Steve showed her how to load the weapon - and how to aim and fire. Mark eyed them both closely. Guns were a 'trigger' for Russ (and they were working on that) but both Jaime and Steve seemed to be handling this situation (so far) with calm equanimity.

Jaime's first few shots went wild, missing the target entirely (most likely due to nerves) but by the end of the session, once she'd calmed down and really concentrated, she was able to hit first the board and finally the target. It would take a few more sessions but the whole trio (and especially Jaime) were relieved that she could handle this, after all.

* * *

That night after dinner, the newlyweds retired to the back porch swing to take in the fresh air and enjoy just being _together_. The sky was clear and the stars had never seemed brighter...but in the distance, a storm was brewing and headed in their direction.

And up at National Medical, '03' quietly resumed his post.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

''How did it feel, holding a gun in your hand, Jaime?'' Mark asked when he and the Austins returned to the house.

''I didn't like it - and I'm _not_ gonna carry one - but nothing terrible happened either,'' she answered.

''If you _were_ to carry one,'' Steve began (still in 'training mode'), ''would you be able to use it, if necessary?''

''I...don't know.''

Steve shook his head. ''Wrong answer. Sweetheart, if you have a weapon and a crisis arises, you can't have even a moment's hesitation in using it - or your adversary will disarm you in a heartbeat...and use it against you. When it comes down to 'Kill or Be Killed', you _have_ to be ready.''

Jaime was silent as Steve's words hit home. _Kill or be killed...__**Kill or be killed...**__!_ Her eyes glazed over and the living room faded away so rapidly that she couldn't give any sort of signal to the two men who were with her. Suddenly, she was on top of the Cobra coaster's turnaround, battling Grant Kingsley for her very life! She heard his words as though she was _right there_, words she had never shared with Steve or Mark because her mind had effectively locked them away as too painful. _Which one of us dies today, Little Lady?_ he sneered as he dangled the upper half of Jaime's body over the railing. She could _see_ the ground, so very far below her as she dangled precariously with more than half of her body weight over the edge. She kicked herself back onto the tracks solely with the power that was left in her legs and the death match continued...

Jaime felt an ice cube in the palm of her left hand and she tensed and then relaxed as music filled the room. ''Bite!'' Steve told her, directly in her right ear. Something was placed in her mouth as she continued to struggle with Kingsley on the tracks. Jaime could feel _two_ pairs of hands on her: one pair gently and tenderly trying to ease her back to reality and then Kingsley's hands - hands intent on hurling her 90 feet to the ground. The smoke burned her nostrils. ''_Bite!_ Steve urged again. He held the lemon wedge in Jaime's mouth with his left hand (grateful that the lighter cast allowed him the mobility) and pulled her close with his right. Jaime bit down...and the sour taste assaulted her senses, clearing the smoke and driving the memory of the battle away until it faded to nothing.

''Thank you...'' she whispered, curling into Steve's embrace. ''Kill...or be killed...'' she said softly, to both men. ''I guess I've already answered that question, huh?''

They couldn't help but wonder (after the traumas she'd endured) whether she'd be able to make the same choice again, if her life was on the line.

* * *

''Well, this was an _interesting_ first 24 hours of married life,'' Jaime noted as she cuddled closer to Steve in bed that night. ''TWO work-outs...one here and one at the track. A meeting with one of the most important, influential men in the country - who by the way is about to become my new boss again! Even learned how to shoot a gun!''

''Welcome to matrimony,'' Steve chuckled. ''But seriously, you'll do fine. Don't stress too much over it, okay?''

''I've heard of a shotgun wedding, but never a handgun honeymoon.''

''Speaking of honeymoons...''

* * *

Rudy and Graham had spent the entire day trying to find out anything they could about Grant's mind control devices - how they worked and especially how to reach the last remaining victim. They debated removing and examining the programmed chips inside but decided to leave the device with the dials and numbers on it intact for now (power pack included), just in case they figured out some way they could use it to rescue the last victim before harm came to anyone else.

That night, when he returned to his newly-rented studio apartment, Graham embarked on some research of his own. Where had his brother been in the many years since they'd lost touch? How might his voice have been changed by a decade spent in Austria...or in the Soviet Union? All he had to go on was a tape he'd pulled from his answering machine and saved - a tape of his twin's voice. ''_Graham...I've come so far and achieved more than I'd ever dreamed possible! Everyone who held me back is going to PAY - starting with Rudy Wells! I'll call soon with details so you can join me!_''

Graham listened to the tape over and over, trying to absorb the nuances of Grant's voice, it's inflections and multi-national layers of accents. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a start.

* * *

'03' stood - once again - at his assigned post. By design, it was the best vantage point in terms of possibly catching any one of his targets alone. Suddenly, he spotted Rudy Wells coming around the corner from his lab to his office - unaccompanied. '03' reached into his back waistband and waited for precisely the right moment...

- - - - -


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

'03' had his hand on the tranquilizer gun, one finger coiled around the trigger and prepared to strike as soon as he pulled and aimed...except...

''Doctor Wells?'' A young researcher came flying down the hall in search of the 'head honcho'. If '03' had still been capable of independent thought, he'd have been cursing to himself. Instead, he merely took his hand off the tranquilizer gun and returned it to his side. His quarry was no longer alone; the order couldn't be carried out at this time. If it wasn't today, he would get Wells (or one of the others on his list) tomorrow...or even the next day. Fortunately, human-automatons were very patient.

* * *

THREE workouts in the same day (if you were to count the one at the track) were excellent for the cardiovascular system - and a great balm for soothing troubled souls - but Steve found himself once again unable to sleep. He was content to watch Jaime sleep, a peaceful (and probably exhausted) smile on her face...until he heard the first distant rumblings of thunder. It sounded so very much like bombs...and squibs...

NO! Steve grounded himself by focusing on Jaime's face and the way the moonlight through the window seemed to turn her features golden. Then the moon disappeared behind the advancing storm clouds and lightning crackled to Earth, followed by another angry peal of thunder. Steve's first instinct was to reach out to Jaime, to wake her for help and support...but he picked up the lemon from his bedside table and took a huge bite, straight through the peel. It grounded him again and he laid back against the pillow, making a mental note to thank Mark in the morning.

Outside, the storm was raging...coming closer...

* * *

Michael finished his last rounds of the night and actually gave thought to heading home for once (to his OSI-supplied apartment), instead of getting a few winks of sleep here and there on the pull-out in his office. His patient load was surprisingly light - a couple of head injury patients in the ICU who had been brought here because Michael was the best in his field and they'd have their best (and probably their only) chance of survival under his care. One was fresh from surgery and had a nurse at her bedside - and Michael would operate on the other patient first thing in the morning. Aside from those two (who were critical but stable), he had a patient who would be discharged in the morning and two others who were serious but stable...leaving him plenty of time for his own research - a luxury he didn't often come by these days.

He had spoken at length with Mark Conrad about flashbacks - their causes, symptoms and treatment - and wondered if he could find a physical correlation to the psychological symptoms. Were there brain waves indicators that could be isolated to help predict and prevent future episodes? Excited to have a new topic to delve into, he headed down toward Rudy's lab to see if he could run his idea past his friend and mentor.

'03' stood on alert (as always, maintaining normalcy) and spotted Michael as he hurried down the hallway. '03' reached quickly for the tranquilizer gun but this target was moving too fast and was gone, somewhere further down the hall, before '03' had the chance to fire. Maintaining normalcy meant he would not leave his post until he'd successfully taken down one of his targets and was ready to move on to phase two. He tucked the gun back into its hiding place to await the next opportunity.

* * *

Steve wondered if a pain pill would help him fall asleep - or at least dull his nerves enough to allow him to ignore the storm. He should've awakened Jaime, since he knew he was potentially in trouble, but instead he padded out to the kitchen, poured a glass of juice and downed his pill. Lightning crackled seemingly just outside the kitchen window and Steve flinched. _Loud music_...headphones! He'd don the set of stereo headphones and not have to hear the storm until the pill began to work at quieting his senses! He grabbed an ice cube from the freezer for his left hand and headed quickly into the living room.

The thunder raged before he could reach the stereo...and it was too late. The ice fell from his hand and his whole body felt dizzy, head-to-bionic toes, as the world around him faded. The storm was directly overhead now...but Steve no longer heard it. Instead, gunfire peppered his feet and smoke clouded his vision and choked the air from his lungs. _Jaime!_ He _had_ to keep her safe! She was right beside him...but suddenly he couldn't see or hear her anymore. Nemesis' wild, insane laughter echoed from every crevice surrounding him and he made his way blindly through the haze and the cacophony of explosions feeling his way as his heart led him to Jaime...to keep her _safe_. Steve found her lying on the ground, not moving, and his panicked hands reached out to snatch her away before their foe could do her any further harm!

Jaime woke from a sound sleep in their darkened bedroom with hands grabbing at her frantically - and she felt herself beginning to black out. She fought the sensation mightily, calling out to her husband (who she didn't realize at first was no longer lying beside her) for help. It was so dark outside that there was no light at all in the bedroom and Jaime could only see a figure looming over her, grabbing at her and when she finally gained enough focus to realize it was Steve...it was too late. The hands grabbing her through the darkness had been too much for her to fight.

Fortunately, on her way 'down', she had enough presence of mind left to pick up the phone and dial Mark's number. ''We...need you...'' she gasped. ''Hurry...''


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The hands that grabbed at Jaime as she hung up the phone were no longer her husband's; they were _Kingsley's_! They were at the top of the coaster, waging a life-and-death battle, 90 feet in the air. Steve dove for Jaime as she spun out of his grasp. He _had _to keep her safe! But as soon as he reached her and dove toward her to shield her from the advancing gunfire, she rolled away, kicking his shins and pushing his hands from her body. They didn't know it, but they were smelling the same smoke, hearing the same bombs and fighting the same evil presence - and yet their minds couldn't have been further apart.

''No!'' Jaime cried, wrenching herself from _Kingsley's _grasp. Steve heard her voice in the midst of his own clouds of darkness and smoke and reached frantically for her, to pull her to safety. Jaime ducked beneath his arms and headed for the living room (which in her mind was now a broken concrete walkway with faded blue waves painted on it). Steve stayed right behind and they whirled and grabbed and reached for each other...and fought each other off. Steve desperately tried to save Jaime, to keep her safe – and Jaime was trying with equal desperation to stay out of Kingsley's hands. They moved back and forth, from room to room, with Jaime at one point running straight into the heavy wooden footer at the end of the bed with a force that might've broken both of her legs if they'd been flesh and blood. The solid oak footer smashed and she crashed into the bed, crumpling to the floor...with Steve seeing her lying there. His heart pounded as he realized that Kingsley had hurt her badly.

Steve reached down to save her from harm but Jaime picked up a piece of the broken footer (she saw it as rotted 'track' wood) and swung with all her strength straight at his kneecaps, trying to keep 'Kingsley' away. The wood splintered and fell away but didn't slow Steve or his determination to 'save' her. He knelt on the ground to carefully scoop her into his one good arm...and Jaime saw Kingsley at the top of the coaster, kneeling down to torment her one last time before leaving her up there to die. One of her legs was bent beneath her where she fell and the other was at an odd angle that didn't allow for much leverage but she kicked as best she could manage, landing a solid blow to his stomach. Steve reeled back against the wall, hitting his head and dazing himself...just as the lights came on and the stereo began to blare.

Mark Conrad had been prepared for the worst from the tone of Jaime's voice on the phone...but he could barely absorb the scene in the bedroom. It was his 'worst case scenario' come to vivid life...and with far more devastating results than he could've imagined. The nightstand and table were both tipped, the lamp broken. The bed sloped downward, with only its front legs intact. The footer had been shattered and Jaime was in a heap, with one leg at an odd angle (_could bionic legs actually __**break**__?_he wondered to himself). Her eyes were wild; it was obvious she was not 'there'. She was breathing heavily and trembling violently with huge, silent tears pooling down her cheeks.

Steve was a few feet away, slumped against the wall, his breathing harsh and ragged and his eyes glazed over. Mark could see that a near life-and-death (bionic-strength) battle had just been fought here - and while both participants were alive, neither of them had 'won'. He closed the bedroom door to drown out at least a bit of the music (not wanting to leave his patients alone even to turn down the stereo) and called National Medical, putting in an urgent page for Michael Marchetti (and praying he was still at the facility).

Michael was at the phone within less than a minute...and horrified by what Mark quickly related to him, that an ambulance was needed at Steve and Jaime's house, as fast as it could get there, to transport _two _patients - unknown injuries but have Rudy Wells on stand-by. As soon as he hung up the phone, Mark's experienced eye assessed both of his injured patients. He had brought two syringes (prepared for the worst) and he would use both...with a separate approach for each. Since Steve seemed dazed and not likely to fight him off, Mark moved in directly from his left side and, grateful that the lighter cast allowed some limited access to Steve's upper arm, he plunged the needle in.

Jaime was going to be tougher. She was clearly still ready to do battle with the monster in her vision, another spike of wood clutched fiercely in her right hand. It didn't look like she was going to be able to get to her feet so even though he hated to leave her for even a second, Mark returned to the living room, flipped off the stereo then ran to the kitchen to fill a glass with ice cubes before returning to the bedroom. Jaime was still exactly as he had left her, still clutching her 'weapon' in a death-grip. Mark climbed onto the broken bed, sliding carefully down its slope toward Jaime - and pressed an ice cube to her temple...and another in her left hand. She stiffened, bringing more of her left arm up where Mark could reach it and he took the moment and plunged in the needle...as sirens began wailing in the background, headed in their direction.

* * *

'03' stood calmly at his post as the hallways around him began to fill with noise and commotion. Michael Marchetti practically flew past him, down the side hallway toward the ambulance bay. Rudy's surgical team began assembling outside his lab and then - together with Rudy Wells himself - headed up to the second floor to ready an OR. '03' heard the doctor say as he went past with his team that Oscar Goldman had been notified. '03' was now on full alert. His guard training told him this meant a bionic patient was about to be brought in. Protocol dictated that Goldman be notified any and every time this happened. Whichever patient it might be didn't matter much to '03'. Hopefully the 'significant other' would follow along in the ambulance to offer moral support. That would mean that every target on his list was about to be at National Medical, all at the same time! Which one would he get a shot at first...?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

For a moment, Michael was dumbfounded at the sight of what awaited them in the Austins' bedroom...then everyone sprang into action. Steve was lifted onto a gurney and carried quickly from the house while Michael and Mark pushed away the broken debris of the footer and knelt next to Jaime. She was in an awkward, uncomfortable position and Michael assessed her quickly but very carefully, making sure it was safe to move her without splints or braces and then the two doctors worked together to lay her out flat on the floor.

''I didn't think bionic limbs could break,'' Mark said softly.

''Neither did I,'' Michael agreed. ''What _happened _here?''

''They could've killed each other...'' Mark said, growing quieter. He hated to think about what this might mean for Jaime and Steve's future. Would they _have_ a future with each other...if _this _could happen again? It was his job to see to it that they still had the chance to build a life together - and he'd have plenty of time to draw up detailed treatment plans for each of them while Rudy, Michael and their teams took care of the wounded warriors.

The gurney crew returned for Jaime and Michael and Mark followed them out. A very discreet OSI clean-up team would be sent in to take care of the aftermath in the little house so for now Mark simply closed and locked the door.

* * *

Steve was immediately attended to by a swarm of internists and surgeons. Their main concern was the blow he'd taken to his stomach. The kick had missed his (healing) broken ribs and landed squarely in his midsection. Michael knew how fortunate it was that Jaime had kicked at such an awkward angle; if the blow had been square-on at full bionic strength it would've killed him. His ribcage would be plenty sore for awhile, with the surrounding tissue bruised and irritated but at the moment he needed to be carefully assessed to check for internal bleeding.

Rudy was nearly struck dumb at the sight of Jaime's leg. It was twisted and bent at an angle he wouldn't have thought possible. Since she was fully sedated and in no physical danger, he assigned two nurses to stay with her and then pulled Mark Conrad into his office and shut the door. Rudy's first words echoed the words of everyone who'd viewed the scene or either of the participants.

''_What happened?_''

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) was still such a newly-identified syndrome that even experts like Mark Conrad weren't always able to provide ready answers. It had first been discovered that about one-fifth of returning Vietnam Vets were suffering many of the same symptoms: irritability, depression (to the point of feeling 'numb'), difficulty sleeping, nightmares and flashbacks - where they would relive (often vividly) the original trauma, sometimes for hours or even days at a time. The studies were not yet completed and treatments were still in their infancy...so doctors like Mark were true ground-breakers, helping these victims to understand what was happening and - for most of them anyway - to help them get through it.

Mark had been hired by the OSI specifically to treat its own 'battle-scarred' operatives - those who had seen too much for too long and those (like Jaime, Steve and Russ) who'd experienced short-term but extraordinarily traumatic events. He wished now that he had something easy and reassuring to tell Rudy...but he simply didn't - not yet.

''My best guess is that one of them experienced a flashback episode and somehow triggered the other - or they both share a trigger that we simply haven't discovered yet. Steve can trigger with thunder and lightning, so taking everything into consideration, including the fact that Jaime was the one still lucid enough to call me, he was likely the one who succumbed first and somehow triggered Jaime.''

''But why...would they _hurt _each other?'' Rudy pondered.

''They may not remember what happened themselves...so we may not know the answer to that. But I've got to work up extensive treatment plans for both of them, to start immediately - and for the time being, unfortunately, they aren't going to be able to share the same hospital room. Supervised visits only. And they certainly can't return to living alone together in that house. Until we find out what caused this or I can treat them sufficiently to be able to state with complete confidence that this will not happen again, it's just too dangerous. There can't be a 'next time'...because next time they could kill each other!''

''They've been married less than 48 hours,'' Rudy said sadly.

''There may be an alternative to forcing them to live apart,'' Mark said, brainstorming out loud. ''Their house has a guest room. Maybe they'd agree to a house guest for awhile. I'll need to treat and assess them here for a few days first. And there's still the hope that they can turn things around more quickly than it appears right now. If I can get even _one_ of them to the point of being able to _control _their trigger instead of yielding to it, they could still be together.'' Mark's voice brightened as he suddenly came upon a ray of hope. ''Steve is a great candidate for that!''

''And...Jaime?'' Rudy asked.

''I'll have to work up a different treatment plan for Jaime. She has multiple triggers while Steve appears to have only one. But I _can _help them; I know I can!''

''I'm glad,'' Rudy affirmed. ''And if anyone can pull them through this, it's you. For now though, I have to see about Jaime's leg.''

''Do you think you can save it?''

Rudy shook his head. ''It's too badly mangled. From what you and Michael have told me, she must have hit the foot of the bed - solid oak - at nearly full bionic speed and then fallen with that leg going down first and bending the wrong way beneath her. We have a spare. She'll be good as new before morning.''

The two doctors shook hands and Rudy headed back to his patient while Mark opened his notebook and began to write. Things could've been so much worse tonight - and now it was his job to make sure things took a sharp turn...for the better.

* * *

'03' remained at his post, watching the commotion as two stretchers (two!) were wheeled in from the ambulance bay. Oscar Goldman came in through the rear exit (just as '03' knew he usually did) but he was flanked by Russ and so no orders could be carried out. If Grant Kingsley were still alive, he would likely have been doing a sick, gleeful version of a Happy Dance because all of the targets were in the same location now, practically lined up like ducks in a shooting gallery. '03' could have his pick...when the time was right.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Steve's doctors were very encouraged by his test results. There were no signs of internal bleeding or organ damage. Aside from severe deep tissue bruising which would leave him quite uncomfortable for awhile, he would be alright. His left arm had thankfully received no damage. He would sleep through the night from the shot Mark had given him - and in the morning it would fall to Mark and Michael to try and find out what happened...and to break it as gently as possible to Steve, if he was unaware of what had occurred.

Jaime's care was a little more complicated, but nothing Rudy couldn't handle. Her new leg was attached without any problem and the mangled leg set aside for Rudy to examine later. Before dawn, she and Steve were each settled into beds on the Third Floor, on opposite ends of the hallway. They would probably _not_ be happy about being separated - and whether they remembered what happened or would need to be told, they would be devastated. It was Mark's hope that their need to be together would be the incentive for them to work even harder with him toward the goal of a reunion so they could benefit from the best medicine of all: _each other_.

Oscar (after a great deal of thought) decided to leave Jaime's status with the OSI as it stood - Operative-in-Training - and not revoke it from her. He knew that with Jaime's strong determination (and a goal to work toward) she'd be on her feet and 'chomping at the bit' to resume training as soon as she possibly could. If Steve could no longer be her trainer, well then Oscar would simply find others...or possibly undertake parts of it himself (as he had done the first time she was activated into service).

The next 12 to 24 hours would be vitally important for everyone.

* * *

Mark wanted to be at each of their bedsides when they first woke up, so it was decided that Jaime would be kept asleep a few hours longer and Steve would be the first to awaken...and face the fallout. Michael and Rudy were both there too, standing watchfully in the background as Steve opened his eyes. ''Hi,'' Mark greeted him.

The _pain _hit him immediately, even before his first conscious thought. He looked around the room, saw hospital walls instead of the bedroom or living room...and panicked. ''What...happened? Where's Jaime?'' he gasped. ''Is she...hurt?'' Steve started to try and get out of bed but was forced back down by the pain that spread from his solar plexus all the way down his middle and out through his ribcage. He groaned in frustration.

Michael stepped toward the bed. ''I can give you something to make you more comfortable, now that you're awake,'' he told Steve.

Steve's eyes darted from one doctor to another, waiting for one of them to fill in the blanks for him. ''Jaime...?'' he repeated.

Mark pulled his chair even closer to Steve's bedside. ''Jaime's going to be fine, Steve,'' he said quietly. ''You will be too. Can you tell me anything about what happened last night?''

''I was - I mean, there was thunder. I could't sleep and I heard the thunder. I took a bite of lemon - and it helped until I heard thunder again. I think...I got out of bed...'' he looked at Mark with confused eyes.

''Yes, you did,'' the doctor confirmed.

''I was going to...no, I _did _take a pain pill. Then the lightning hit right outside the house and...oh no! What...happened?''

''Is that the last you remember?'' Mark questioned.

''I think so. Mark, please..._what happened?_'' Steve's voice was growing groggier and his eyelids drooped as the pain medicine from the IV flooded his system but he struggled to stay awake because he _had _to know!

''Maybe you should rest now,'' Mark suggested. ''We can talk more later.''

''Did I somehow do this to myself?'' Steve asked. ''And...Jaime. You said...she was gonna be okay. That means...she's here? Mark, did I...hurt her?'' Steve's entire face was a mask of confusion, pain...and fear. As he drifted off to sleep from total exhaustion and the effects of strong pain meds, there was only one word on his lips, one face in his mind...

''Jaime...''

* * *

The same trio of doctors were at Jaime's bedside when it was her turn to wake up. Mark moved in close, as Jaime did best with a bit of physical contact - a hand to hold. Gently, he picked up her left hand and stroked it soothingly as she slowly opened her eyes. Very much the same way Steve had, Jaime looked around the room and took in her surroundings...and then her eyes filled with tears. She looked up at Mark. ''Steve...he's hurt! Is he...?'' she couldn't bear to complete the thought.

''He's alright,'' Mark assured her. This was promising. It seemed that Jaime remembered at least part of what had happened. ''He's here and being well taken care of. Jaime,'' he said very gently and cautiously, ''do you remember what happened?''

Jaime closed her eyes and as bits and pieces came flooding back to her, tears poured down her cheeks. ''Hands...'' she whispered. ''There were hands coming at me...and it was so dark!'' Her eyes remained tightly closed.

''Take your time,'' Mark told her.

''I...I fought him off...the best I could...''

''Who were you fighting, Jaime?''

''Him...Kingsley! He was...grabbing at me...it was SO dark! I couldn't...I...couldn't see...and then, when I fell, it was too late. He was gonna...get me after all! I think I hit him...with some wood from the track. At least that's what I'm seeing. He just kept...coming for me! I kicked him...but then...''

Jaime's eyes flew open in shock and alarm at the last thing her mind had just shown her. ''God...no...I...I thought it was Kingsley still coming at me...but it was Steve! And I _kicked _him...so hard!'' She dissolved into tears and was unable to continue.

Mark patted her hand reassuringly. ''Steve will be alright,'' he told her. ''Let's worry about getting _you_ 'alright' too.'' The PTSD doctor held Jaime's hand as the next round of sedation hit her system and she began to relax. She didn't realize it, but she had just taken a giant step forward. Remembering, facing and especially being able to relate what was happening to her was _**huge**_...and it filled all three of her doctors with hope.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

They woke again calling for (and in Jaime's case, reaching for) each other - but for Jaime, the hand that met hers wasn't Steve's; it was Rudy's. ''Easy, Honey, just lie back,'' he encouraged. She was doing very well physically, with her body accepting and adjusting to the new limb as though it was one she was born with. ''Can you wriggle your toes for me - left foot, please?'' he asked. She responded perfectly. Everything was in fine working order. Everything, that is, except her spirit.

''New...leg?'' she guessed. Rudy nodded. ''Rudy...is Steve alright? I wish I...that I'd been able to help him...instead of...''

Rudy gave her his most compassionate, reassuring smile. ''You _did _help him, Honey. You called Mark and got help for both of you. Your survival instinct kicked in exactly when you needed it most and you made that call; that's something to hold onto.''

''Yeah...but then 'survival' instinct' kicked in _too _hard and...I could've killed him. Rudy, maybe I really am going crazy!''

''You're not - and I'm pretty sure you know that. Mark is with Steve right now. Why don't you rest awhile longer? I'll be right here with you. I won't leave; I promise.''

Jaime nodded, closed her eyes...and squeezed his hand in gratitude.

* * *

Down the hall in Steve's room, Mark had finally (as gently as he could) given Steve a very brief version of what had happened. His face paled as he heard even the minor details. Instead of helping each other, he and Jaime had _hurt _each other - however unintentionally - and he was lucid enough to know what that was likely to mean. ''That's why we're in separate rooms...isn't it?''

''Yes,'' Mark told him. ''I really don't think it could happen again, especially not in this setting, but we need to be _sure_.''

''Can I at least...see her? Just for a few minutes?'' Steve pleaded.

''Maybe later today. But I do have some good news for you.''

''Sure could use some right about now, Doc.''

''I think I can help you get on top of these flashbacks and get rid of them - hopefully for good. You may still have a twinge here and there but nothing like what happened last night,'' Mark told him.

''Just tell me what I need to do.''

''I'm going to hypnotize you - several times, over the course of several sessions - and implant a suggestion in your brain. It should enable you to ignore thunder...or at the very least, not let it bother you. Then I'll teach you some self-hypnosis techniques which are really just deep relaxation more than anything else, and that will enable you to reach that suggestion in your mind, any time you need to. Thunder will no longer be a trigger for you.''

Steve frowned. ''Is that even possible?''

''You'll still have twinges now and then,'' Mark explained. ''Remember that you've experienced severe trauma and it takes time for your body and especially your mind to recover.''

''Can we start now?'' Steve asked.

''In a little while, after you've had some lunch. In the meantime, I need to check on Jaime,'' Mark told him.

''Thanks, Doc - and please...tell her I love her.''

* * *

Mark knew his approach with Jaime would have to be an entirely different plan than the one he'd presented to Steve. While Steve's trigger was something tangible in the outside world - _thunder_ - Jaime appeared to have multiple triggers and they seemed to be things in her own mind. Kingsley's eyes...the phrase 'kill or be killed'...and whatever had happened last night (she'd mentioned something about hands grabbing her in the darkness) - these triggers were less tangible and far harder to battle. Mark was confident he could help her but it would involve many hours of long, deep discussions of the very subjects she wanted most to put away and avoid. It could definitely be done, if she was strong enough and determined enough...and especially if she could have Steve by her side to help her along. What Jaime needed most was a series of small victories, wherever she might find them, to buoy her spirit along and keep her on course. She needed that almost as desperately as she needed her brand-new husband by her side. Mark knew there was a lot on his plate, but he was determined to make it happen...for both of them.

* * *

Mark found Jaime resting quietly with Rudy by her side, but she wasn't asleep. She opened her eyes and turned her head when she heard him come in...and even managed a weak smile. ''Hi there!'' Mark said cheerfully.

Rudy patted Jaime's hand and left so she and Mark could talk privately. ''Just ring if you need me, Honey,'' he told her.

''Did you see Steve?'' Jaime asked.

Mark nodded. ''He's doing very well. He's resting...and said to tell you he loves you.''

''He's really...alright, then? Please...tell me the truth.''

Mark had planned for this visit to be light - a 'take her emotional temperature' sort of thing - but Jaime was far more lucid than she'd been that morning and he decided to work with her...slowly and carefully, to see if some sort of footing could be gained. ''He's going to be very sore for awhile,'' Mark answered honestly, ''but we'll help him with that. He should heal good as new before you know it.'' He was gratified to see Jaime's weak smile grow a little stronger. ''Jaime...'' he began cautiously, ''can you tell me what happened just before you called me on the phone last night?''

''I was asleep...'' she started in a tentative voice. ''Then _hands_ - these hands were grabbing me...and it was SO dark! I didn't know what was happening...thought maybe we were being kidnapped...then...they were _Kingsley's _hands! I...I saw for a second that it was Steve standing there, but I think I was already flipping out.''

''Jaime, in the future, let's avoid the use of the term 'flipping out','' Mark told her. ''Too heavy of a negative connotation there and it simply doesn't apply to you. You had an episode or you went into a flashback. Let's use those words instead. So you're telling me you were already in the throes of a flashback when you called me?''

''I think so...or I was just about to be. Yeah...I think it was just coming on when I picked up the phone.''

''Well, that's wonderful news! You were able to reach out for help when you felt you weren't able to help yourself!'' he exulted. ''That's a huge point in the 'Win' column!''

''Please tell me how to get rid of this,'' Jaime begged. ''I don't want just something to stop an 'episode' if I feel one coming on! I want that monster _out of my head!_''

Mark smiled. ''And there you go; another point in the 'Win' column for wanting to evict him from your psyche,'' he praised. ''And we're going to do exactly that, working together: you, me..._and_ Steve.''

* * *

Rudy had returned to the lab where Graham had remained huddled over his twin's devices, studying them intently. He'd been working on another project, too. He turned to Rudy and spoke in a voice that sounded like a European version of Graham. ''I've almost got it down, Doctor Wells.'' (The voice gave Rudy chills.) ''With a little more practice, maybe I can bring '03' to us - before he has the chance to harm anyone else.''


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mark was finding it _**very **_hard to hypnotize someone who had been through every level of the OSI's resistance training! Steve wanted so badly to cooperate - to do anything that would help - but it seemed his brain warded off any and all methods of hypnotism. Even Mark was getting discouraged, although he tried not to let it show.

''Geez, Doc,'' Steve grumbled, ''if my mind can resist all of this, why doesn't it resist those damn flashbacks?''

''Let's try another method,'' Mark suggested. He began teaching Steve the same relaxation/self-hypnosis exercises he'd taught to Russ. (This would help him control at least some of his pain level too, if he was able to use the techniques.) Steve was an avid pupil...and soon achieved the deepest level of relaxation he could reach on his own. Mark gave hypnosis one more try...and was successful! Gradually, he implanted the suggestion that when Steve were to hear thunder it would represent the drum section of a symphony orchestra...and that the music would relax and calm him because nothing about drums or music would ever try to harm him. He repeated the suggestion several times, growing softer and softer and having Steve repeat what he'd said. When Mark felt confident that enough had been achieved for one session, he slowly brought Steve back out of it...and smiled.

''Great job!'' he praised.

''Did it work?'' Steve wondered.

''We'll find out soon enough. I'll have a test for you at our next session,'' Mark promised.

''When can I see my wife?''

''Soon. Hopefully today. I'm heading back down there now to check on her.''

''How...badly was she hurt?'' Steve asked. ''And I'm gonna find out eventually so you might as well just tell me now,''

''Her left leg was broken and -''

''Broken? How do you break a bionic leg?'' Steve wondered.

''Apparently by slamming at full bionic force into the foot of a solid oak bed and landing with it twisted beneath her,'' Mark explained. ''But she's already been fitted with a new one and I understand from Rudy that she's adjusted to it perfectly. Why don't you rest now; try some of those relaxation techniques if you'd like...and I'll see how Jaime's doing.'' Mark smiled at his patient and headed down the hall.

Jaime was alone and lying on her side, staring pensively out the window. Her lunch tray was on the side table, picked at but barely touched. ''Food's not bad here,'' Mark said, strolling briskly into the room. ''You really should eat.''

When she turned around, Jaime's cheeks were tear-stained but her eyes were clear. ''Maybe later,'' she told him. ''I...um...I guess I'll have a helluva mess to clean up when I get home, huh?''

''Already been taken care of,'' Mark assured her.

''Was it bad?''

''It wasn't pretty,'' Mark admitted. ''The two of you were fighting the same monster - the same evil - but _against _each other.''

''I can't even imagine the damage...''

''Better that you don't focus on that right now. What can we put in the Win column for you today?'' Mark wondered. ''How about, for starters, 'Jaime ate a great lunch'.''

''Oh, give it here,'' she grumbled, chuckling at the same time. After a few mouthfuls (which she really had to admit weren't that bad since it was a private hospital), her face brightened. ''I know a huge check mark we could put in the Win column! 'Jaime visits her husband'! Yeah, I like the sound of that!''

Mark laughed. ''Finish your lunch and I'll see what I can do. Steve has to lie flat for another day or two but I don't see any reason I can't wheel you down there for a visit. A short one, anyway. I'll check with Rudy and Michael to make sure it's alright with them while you finish up.'' He watched for a few moments as the color returned to Jaime's cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes; she also seemed to have suddenly found her appetite. ''I'll be right back,'' he promised.

* * *

Graham had spent the last few hours practicing - playing the tape for Rudy and trying to duplicate the inflections and accents to perfection. He and Rudy huddled together now, with Graham holding the device. He switched it on and turned the dial to read '03'. ''I am in Rudy Wells laboratory at National Medical Center,'' he said into the transmitter, in what they both hoped was a perfect imitation of Grant's voice. ''I want you to meet me here immediately. Disregard ALL other orders and report here at once.''

Now...they would wait.

* * *

True to his word, Mark returned quickly - and with a wheelchair. ''Your chariot awaits!'' he said with a gallant flourish. ''Remember it's just for a short visit this time, to see what happens,'' he reminded Jaime as he helped her into the chair.

''You're afraid that, now that _this _has happened, seeing each other will trigger us...aren't you?''

''It's very, very unlikely, but it is possible. So we're moving slowly. A short visit...but hopefully a longer one either tonight or in the morning,'' Mark told her. ''You ready?'' He wheeled Jaime down the long hallway to Steve's room at the other end (right by the elevator), knocked on the door and smiled at Steve when he turned his head. ''You have a visitor,'' Mark told him. In spite of the pain and the strong medicines he was on to try and counter that pain, Steve's face - no, his entire _being_- suddenly lit up. Mark wheeled Jaime close to the bed and then stepped back by the door, not leaving them alone but giving them at least a little space. He had a portable call button in one pocket and two syringes in the other...but it was his hope that he wouldn't have to use them.

They didn't speak a word; they didn't have to. Steve reached his other arm across his chest so that he and Jaime could join all four of their hands together in a show of unity and support...drawing new strength and finding _hope_ just by being _together_.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

'03' reported to his post early to begin his shift. With all the 'ducks in a row', tonight would be the night! Everything was ready; he had the morgue gurney with its hidden 'body bag' compartment below (to wheel a body through the hospital to the morgue without upsetting the other patients) - it would be perfect for transporting his unconscious prisoner down to the Security garage, to be placed in a van...

He felt the familiar BUZZ in his head and stiffened slightly. The transmission was garbled though...incomplete. Only certain words got through to his mind: _National Medical Center...immediately...at once..._

'03' took this as confirmation that he was on the right path toward completing his orders. He would wait until the middle of the night, when the patients upstairs would be sound asleep and then - for the sake of speed - he would take whichever target he found to be closest to the elevator.

* * *

''Alright, Steve,'' Mark began, ''I'm going to play a tape for you and I want you to tell me what you hear and what effect it has on you...if any.''

''Gotcha, Doc. Let's do this!''

Mark started the tape. It began softly, with the sound of rain pattering on a windowpane. Then the wind began to pick up and the sound of the rain became louder, more intrusive. Steve identified the sounds without difficulty (of course) and tensed a bit as he waited for what was likely to come next. Instead of what Steve expected though, he began to hear a beautiful symphony with a drum section quietly keeping time in the background. Mark smiled; it was working. The music in Steve's head grew progressively louder until - suddenly - a clap of thunder burst through...the music stopped...and Steve could feel himself fading as the tension in his body sent spasms of pain throughout his middle.

''Turn it..._off_, Doc...'' he gasped.

Mark obliged quickly and handed Steve a lemon. Steve bit down hard and was able to successfully ground himself. Almost without conscious thought, he began a relaxation technique and the spasms of pain relaxed and being in his body was bearable once more.

''That was wonderful!'' Mark told him. Steve raised a doubtful eyebrow. ''Really - you did a great job, after only one session! We'll meet a few more times so I can make sure that the musical suggestion is ingrained in your mind and you'll gradually be able to use the relaxation exercises when the suggestion itself isn't enough. But - it's _working_! And that's wonderful news!''

Finally, Steve smiled. ''Doc...thank you,'' he said softly.

Mark smiled warmly back at him. ''I have a question for you about Jaime.''

''Fire when ready, Doc.''

''Jaime's triggers are internal - things coming from her own mind that cause her to have her 'episodes' - and that makes her much harder to reach...and to treat. You know her better than anyone else; which part of what happened to her do you think is troubling her the most, becoming a 'stuck' point in her mind? The helplessness? The way he loomed death over her head continuously? His threats toward the people she loves?''

''Those would all hurt her...badly...but she's been working through them. I don't see any of them as a sticking point. What would bother her the most - and what she'll never bring up to talk about on her own - is that she was forced to take a life.''

It was the answer Mark had expected but had wanted to hear from the one who knew Jaime best. _All_ of her known triggers - Kingsley's eyes, 'kill or be killed' and hands grabbing in the darkness - could be linked to those precarious moments at the top of the turnaround where one or the other of them was going to die. Jaime had done what she needed to do. She was _alive_; she had won. Now Mark needed to find a way to make her see that too.

* * *

Graham and Rudy waited expectantly, hoping against hope that '03' would walk through the lab door, subdued and harmless. It didn't happen. ''I must've gotten some of the words wrong,'' Graham puzzled. ''Or there's some nuance in his speech pattern that I'm not picking up on. If I've pronounced anything wrong, the command may not be going through. He planted quite a fail-safe in here. If it wasn't something he'd intended to harm so many with, I'd be quite impressed.''

''We have to keep trying,'' Rudy insisted. ''Maybe if you word the command differently...''

Graham keyed up the device to '03' and tried again. ''All other orders canceled. Report to Doctor Wells' lab at National Medical immediately.''

Again, they would wait.

* * *

'03' felt the BUZZ in his head once again...but this message was just as garbled and incomplete as the last. _All orders...National Medical...immediately..._

He would remain at his post, 'maintaining normalcy' until it was time to carry out his orders.

* * *

It would be a difficult session; Mark knew this in advance and had come prepared. Jaime smiled at him, seeming even stronger for having been able to visit with Steve. Her doctor could only hope that she was ready for this. ''Feel up to a talk?'' he began.

''Sure,'' she said brightly.

''Good. Because I'd like to start trying to find the _source _of your triggers - which I believe is buried somewhere in your own mind. Tell me the first thing that comes into your mind about Grant Kingsley.''

''_Evil_.''

''Alright; I'm going to throw a few more words at you and I don't want you to think about your answers. Just say the first thing that pops into your head, okay?'' Mark requested. Jaime nodded. ''Smoke.''

''Bombs,'' Jaime responded.

''Roller coaster.''

''Helpless.'' Jaime shivered.

Mark eyed her closely. ''Helpless,'' he fired back.

''Chained...''

''_Eyes_.''

Jaime began to tremble slightly. ''Evil...'' she whispered.

They were getting there - and it fell to Mark to lead her (or drag her) to where she needed to go, in order to really, truly _heal_. ''Hands.''

''Grabbing...''

''Platform,'' Mark said.

''Escape.''

''Chase.''

''Closer...''

''Top,'' Mark threw out.

''Struggle.''

''Fall.''

Jaime's eyes filled with tears. ''Noooo...'' she cried, not in response to his word but as a plea to stop.

''_Fall_,'' Mark repeated.

''Die...'' she whispered, almost unable to voice the word.

''Kill.'' (They were almost there, Mark knew, if only he could get her to take those last few steps.)

Jaime's eyes glazed over and she began to tremble more violently. She stared at Mark in a silent plea for help. He took a bottle of peppermint oil from the bag he'd brought with him, opened it and held it beneath her nose. ''Breathe in,'' he told her. With his other hand, he reached for a slice of lime and placed it in her mouth. ''Now bite. Good.'' He could tell by her eyes that she was back 'with' him again.

''I..._killed _him...'' she said, very softly, nearly choking on the words.

''Yes, you did. Now tell me why.''

''Because...because it was...him...or me...''

Mark nodded approvingly and smoothed the hair back from Jaime's tear-stained cheeks. ''That's exactly the point,'' he told her. ''You're _alive_. You won. You're still here - and that means _you did it right!_''


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He had taken her directly _there_ - to the heart of what was torturing her days and tormenting her dreams at night - and now Mark needed to push her just a little harder (but with caution, of course). He needed to know that she truly _understood_ and wasn't just parroting the words she knew he wanted to hear. ''Jaime, when you woke up that morning, did you think to yourself _I'm going to kill someone today_?'' Jaime shook her head. Mark went on. ''When you got into that chopper with Steve and flew to the park, was your thought that you were going there to kill him?''

''No...''

Mark could see that she was once again fighting back tears. ''If you need to cry, then it's _healthy_ for you to cry,'' he told her. ''Holding it in...not so healthy. Now, when you and Steve got to that park...when every one of your senses was assaulted all at once and you had nowhere to go except _toward _whatever he had planned for you...was the thought in your mind that you were going to kill him?'' Again, Jaime shook her head. Her tears were falling freely again, but silently. Mark kept going. ''When you were on that platform...when you broke the chains and he wouldn't let you get away, you started up that hill. What were you thinking then...that you might lure him up there and throw him over the edge?''

''Nooo...I...I just wanted...to get away!''

''Alright, and when he was up there with you, dangling your body over the railing and nearly throwing you to your own death...what were you thinking then? Jaime...?''

''I guess...the only word in my mind right then...was _**NO**_...''

''So even then, it wasn't a conscious decision in your mind that you were going to kill him, as much as the determination that _you_ weren't going to die that way - that you wanted to _live_- am I right?''

''Yes...'' Jaime was sobbing openly and freely as she remembered flinging herself back over the railing...and using the momentum to toss him over the side instead.

''Tell me what you're thinking, right this second,'' Mark requested.

''That it was better him than me...does that mean...does that make me...an awful person?''

''That makes you a _survivor_! And that's the biggest possible check mark you could ever put in the Win column!''

''There's something else...'' Jaime offered. ''For the Win column, I mean.'' Her sobs were slowing back into quiet tears of realization.

''What's that?''

''While you were talking, going through all of that and - and sort of dragging me there with you - I...I could _see_ what you were talking about...and I could feel what I was feeling then...but...I didn't _go there_! I didn't black out!''

''That's right; you didn't. And I'm so _very_ proud of you! Steve will be too.''

* * *

''Hi,'' Jaime said almost shyly as Mark wheeled her up to Steve's bed. Steve turned his head and beamed at her with his entire heart.

''Hiya, Beautiful,'' he answered. He reached over and tenderly caressed her cheek. ''You've been crying?'' (She'd washed her face and even asked for - and received - ice for her swollen eyes, but her husband knew her too well.)

''I'm okay. Been doing some work with Mark, that's all. How are _you _feeling? I mean...you're the one who's hurt...''

''I'm a whole lot better now than I was a few minutes ago.'' Steve looked over toward where their doctor was standing (as discretely as possible) in the doorway. ''Mark, what are the chances of having this pretty li'l lady as a roomie? Sure would do this ol' cowhand a world of good.''

Mark hesitated. Jaime and Steve had both made strides in only one day that might've taken most patients a week or longer to reach (if ever). They'd pushed themselves that hard, he knew, with the ultimate goal of being with each other again...but it was simply too soon. He chose his words carefully. ''You've both made amazing progress...but bear in mind that it's only been one day. Maybe tomorrow or the next day, when everything is a lot clearer. But you're almost there,'' he promised.

Things were, indeed, looking up.

* * *

It was the quietest, loneliest, smallest hour of the night when '03' ascertained that no one was likely to be going up or down the hallways in the next hour or so. It was _time_. He found the gurney right where he'd stashed it, pressed the elevator button for the Third Floor and headed up. He eyed the sleeping patient in the first room he came to. One from his list! (Bingo!) '03' walked directly over to the bed, pulled the tranquilizer gun from his waistband...and fired.

Steve groaned in pain as the dart hit home. He was barely able to rouse from drug-induced sleep before the tranquilizer pulled him under. In that single moment, he called out the only name his heart longed for - and the only person who stood a chance of hearing his now-weakened voice.

''Jaime...''

It was all he could manage before the tranquilizer took its savage effect and he was out cold. He never felt himself being eased feet-first into the body bag, didn't hear the elevator bell or even feel the bag being lifted into the back of the Security van. If he had been conscious, the bumps in the road would've been agonizing to his broken ribcage and bruised middle. As it was, he slept straight through. Any damage done to his target at this point was of no consequence to '03'. He would leave his quarry at the designated spot (with another shot from the tranquilizer weapon to ensure that he stayed put) and then return to National Medical where he'd use the payphone to dial a number specifically designated for this very purpose. No one would answer, but the message would be received that the orders had been carried out.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Jaime woke from the depths of sleep without being entirely sure what had awakened her. _Steve!_Had she heard him...or was it part of what she'd been dreaming? His voice had sounded strange - mangled, weak...desperate. She was certain what (or even if) she was dreaming but Jaime felt a sharp, sudden pang of fear. She decided she'd just tiptoe down the hall, make sure Steve was safely asleep and then head back to bed herself. The doctors who'd ordered them apart wouldn't be happy...but they'd never have to know. Just a peek to reassure herself that she was worried for nothing - and then right back to her room.

Except...Steve wasn't in his bed! His bathroom light was off and the door was open; he was nowhere in his room! Jaime fought back panic and stood stock still, listening. She heard the elevator _ding_ and the sound of a heavy cart, like housekeeping sometimes used. No - a _gurney_! Then she spotted something hanging on the bed rail that told her for sure that Steve had _not_ left his bed voluntarily: his _datacom_! Even as a hospital patient ordered to lie flat on his back in bed, Steve's datacom was never out of his reach. It was part of who he was...and a lifeline (as he had begun to teach her). Jaime snatched it up, hit Steve's call button (to sound an alert that he wasn't there) and ran for the elevator. She didn't stop long enough to change into street clothes. The pajamas she wore were decent but even if she'd been in a tiny nightie, this was _Steve_ and he was in _trouble_!

The button lit up, but the elevator seemed far too long in coming! She listened again, straining for any sounds that might be out of the ordinary...and heard a vehicle pull out of what she was certain was the hospital garage (and not the parking lot). She listened for a few more moments, taking in the direction it seemed to be traveling, then - since the elevator _still _hadn't come - ran her top bionic speed toward the other side of the hallway...and the stairs. Jaime jumped from landing to landing, not bothering with the steps themselves. The guard who normally watched over the elevator and the annex where all of the main first floor hallways met was not at his post, so no one attempted to stop her as she hit the back exit at a dead run.

The vehicle (she thought it was a pick-up or maybe a van) sounded like it was headed down the old dirt road that ran along the woods behind National...so Jaime made a beeline straight through the woods, trying to make up some ground. But...she could no longer hear the vehicle. She stopped to listen...and tears of frustration filled her eyes.

* * *

By now, Michael had reached Steve's room. A nurse had answered the call light, found the bed empty and summoned him. Michael sent the nurse down to check on Jaime and then he picked up the phone to page Security. The nurse returned breathless from having run the return trip down the hallway.

''She's not in her room either, Doctor!''

Michael picked up the phone again and dialed the switchboard. ''Get Oscar Goldman on the line as fast as you can wake him up - and patch the call to this number, please. And I need you to _hurry_!''

* * *

Out of options and ideas, Jaime looked at the datacom in her hand. If she used it to call for help, would anyone even hear her, in the middle of the night...or were the devices turned off when their owners slept? Steve's had been 'On'...but was it an oversight? She keyed it up and spoke into it frantically. ''Can anyone hear me?'' she pleaded.

Down in his lab, still working with Graham on changing subtle nuances in his voice to try and mirror his twin, Rudy heard the cry over the datacom. ''That's Jaime!'' he said, almost diving to grab the device and key it up. (She was supposed to be up in her hospital bed, sound asleep!) ''Honey,'' he transmitted, ''it's Rudy. What's wrong?''

''It's Steve! He's in trouble! He...I heard him calling me...but he was gone.''

Rudy turned to Graham. ''Page Mark Conrad. Urgent-Page. You know how to do that?'' Graham nodded, so Rudy continued transmitting to Jaime. ''Honey, slow down. Where are you right now? Are you in Steve's room?''

''No. I...I'm in the woods behind the hospital...''

''What? Jaime, if something's happened you need to come back here and let us handle it.''

''I'm gonna find him, Rudy! I heard the truck - or the van - and it came this way!''

_My God, how far away did she get in the middle of the night?!_''Jaime, listen to me...come back to the hospital, exactly the same way you went through the woods - and you can tell Security everything you saw and heard.''

Mark Conrad turned the corner into the lab just in time to hear Jaime's next transmission. ''Oh! I heard it again, Rudy; the same van! It's going the other way now. I...I have to catch up to it!''

''Jaime!'' Rudy called into the device. There was no reply.

''What the hell's going on?'' Mark asked.

''Jaime's got Steve's datacom. She said something's happened to Steve...and she's running around out there in the woods somewhere, trying to find him.''

''Oh no...''

Behind them, Graham was resuming his efforts to contact '03' and get him to come to the lab. He repeated the directions over and over, changing the inflection of each individual word just slightly, trying anything he could think of to reach the automaton/victim.

Mark took the datacom from Rudy. ''Jaime...it's Mark. Can you hear me?''

There was still no reply.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The van sped down the road faster than Jaime could get a direction on it from her vantage point, deep in the woods. By the time she reached the road, the sound of the engine was gone. She thought she heard something else, somewhere in the distance though...and then the datacom crackled to life.

''Jaime,'' Mark transmitted again, ''I need you to answer if you can hear me. Tell us where you are and we'll send someone to get you - and to look for Steve.'' Truth be told, the PTSD doctor wasn't entirely sure if Jaime was lucid...or if she was hallucinating. But if Steve was gone too – and apparently, he was - then _something_ had gone wrong...and his patients were in trouble! He was careful to keep his voice over the datacom calm and reassuring as he tried again to reach her. ''Jaime...we need you to answer and let us know where you are...and where you think Steve is...so we can send help.''

''NO!'' came the answer. ''Please...stop talking or I'll turn this off! I...I don't wanna turn it off, but I think I heard something and I really need you to stop talking. Please!''

Silence that seemed louder than an atom bomb filled the room, then the guard who normally stood at the elevator and hallway annex rounded the corner and looked into the lab. ''Elevator's stuck between the first and second floors,'' he told them. ''I've phoned for maintenance.''

The men in Rudy's lab nodded, barely noticing him as the guard resumed his normal post.

* * *

To Jaime's relief, Mark and Rudy had stopped transmitting. She listened carefully to every sound she could draw in, concentrating on trying to find any sound that didn't belong there...but she didn't hear it again. It had been something that sounded like canvas thudding against a rock and because of the voices on the datacom, she'd been unable to tell where it had come from. The sound of the vehicle's engine was gone now. Had someone driven out here, to this awful, desolate patch of woods...and dumped Steve's body? Was that the 'thud' she had heard? Jaime shivered and wanted to burst into tears...but that would help exactly nothing and no one. She _had _to keep going!

She could no longer see the glow behind her that had been the lights of the hospital...and she'd also run too far to hear the sounds of the lake. But _Steve_ was here somewhere...and he needed her help! Finally, she keyed up the datacom. ''It's me...'' she transmitted. ''I can't find him...yet...but I'm still trying. I _have_to try!''

''Jaime,'' Mark said with a huge sigh of relief, ''where are you - so we can come and help you?''

''I...don't know...'' she admitted.

Meanwhile, Michael had just joined them. ''I talked to Oscar,'' he said in a whisper to the men who were assembling there one by one. ''He and Russ are calling out Search and Rescue teams to comb the woods and out by the lake.''

Rudy had found another datacom in his inner lab and began talking to Jaime along with Mark. ''Honey, it's me,'' he said softly. ''There are Rescue teams on their way. We need you to stay where you are so they can locate you.''

''I can't!'' Jaime insisted. ''I'm going to find him.''

The entire room nearly jumped in unison when, outside the window, a bolt of lightning flashed over the other side of the lake. _A storm was moving in._

* * *

Graham was off in the far corner with his brother's mind control device, still trying to shape and reshape his words into those of his twin's in an effort to reach '03'. Suddenly, for no discernible reason, the guard from the elevator stood expectantly in the doorway, staring blankly at them. ''Doctor Wells...'' Graham said very quietly, looking down at his twin's device and up at the guard. Rudy's eyes widened and he nodded understanding. He and Grant moved slowly from separate sides of the lab toward the waiting guard. As Rudy passed Michael, he tapped him on the shoulder. ''Get a dose of your compound ready,'' he whispered.

Graham stood directly in front of the guard and - keeping the voice he hoped was the one he'd just used - instructed him. ''I need you to come and sit in this chair please,'' he told '03'. The guard didn't move. He looked at Rudy, who motioned with his head toward the device Graham held in his hand. Graham turned it on and adjusted the dial, then repeated the instruction. The guard sat down. ''Good,'' Graham told him (through the device). ''Now I want you to give me all of your weapons. You don't need them anymore.'' Without hesitation, the guard handed over his regular-issue (Security) weapon...and then reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out the tranquilizer gun, handing it over as well.

''Did you use either of these weapons tonight?'' Graham probed.

The guard nodded. ''Of course. I followed orders.''

''Which weapon did you use?'' Graham asked. The guard looked blank, his jaw slackened. Rudy looked to Graham with alarm. ''Where did you take Colonel Austin?'' Again, the only answer was a vacant stare. ''It must be part of the program that the order is wiped from their memory, once it's completed,'' he told Rudy.

Michael returned with a dose of his compound and Rudy nodded for him to go ahead. They would get no answers from the guard as he was now; perhaps after the concussive compound released Grant's hold on his last remaining victim, the guard might spontaneously remember something - anything - the way Russ had been able to do.

* * *

At the same time that Graham and Rudy were dealing (or trying to deal) with '03', Mark was still trying to get any sort of useful information from Jaime. Now that he'd overheard the guard claim he'd used at least one of the two weapons, the situation had instantly turned critical.

''Jaime, have you heard that sound again?'' Mark transmitted in a gentle voice.

''No. And I'm trying...I'm really trying...but the thunder...!''

''We need you to tell us anything you can about where you are, so the Rescue Teams can find you. Stop walking – or running – for a minute and look around. Now, what do you see? Jaime...? Can you see the hospital?''

''No. I...I can't even hear the ripples on the lake anymore...or the birds,'' Jaime told him. ''I'm by the road. Or...I was by the road. Now I...I see...rocks. A lot of rocks...and hills.''

Mark looked at the others. She was all the way out in the hills! By now, Oscar had joined them, and he got on his own device, sending a good portion of the teams in what they now believed was Jaime's direction. ''Tell them to watch the lightning,'' Michael reminded Oscar. ''If Steve and Jaime are out there in the open, the lightning is going to be drawn toward them.''

''Mark...are you still there...?'' Jaime asked plaintively.

''I'm still here,'' he affirmed. ''I'll stay here with you, on this radio, until one of the teams finds you.''

''Okay.'' Jaime's voice came back over the speaker again within minutes. ''I...I heard something! It sounds like canvas hitting rock! I think...that -'' Jaime's words were cut off by a blood-chilling, pain-filled scream...and then silence. The only other thing the men in the room heard through the datacom speaker was thunder. Somewhere out there, _lightning had struck._


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The lightning had struck the ground directly at Jaime's feet, singeing her toes - but this was not what made her scream. When the sky lit up for that brief moment, she finally saw what (or who) she sought. Except...she didn't see _Steve_. Instead, there was a _body bag_! And not a standard-issue plastic body bag; this looked more like a mummy's _shroud_: tight-fitting canvas that was barely large enough to contain the body (!) within. Jaime screamed and dropped the datacom, tripping over rocks and branches as she ran. She dove for the bag and fumbled for its zipper. When it jammed near the top, she simply tore upon the tight canvas cocoon.

Steve looked..._dead_. His face was a ghastly shade of greyish-white and his lips were nearly colorless. Jaime felt herself beginning to black out, not into a flashback but simply _away_ from something that was too much to bear...but she forced herself to stay 'present' through sheer will and pressed her lips firmly to her husband's in a desperate attempt to force _air_ into his lungs. She could hear Mark's voice calling to her from the datacom...and then Oscar's and Rudy's too...and the storm raged directly above her...but all Jaime could focus on was _Steve_.

* * *

Back in Rudy's lab (which had become a sort of command center for Search and Rescue), the radios began to light up. ''We heard the scream,'' one team reported. ''Heading in that direction.''

''Saw the lightning - and it changed direction in mid-air, Sir!'' another called in. ''We're on our way.''

Graham's questioning of the guard (now that he'd received Michael's compound) was yielding absolutely nothing of use. He was too stunned, confused and frightened to even speak...and was finally moved to a bed upstairs on the fifth floor - in a locked ward. Mark and Rudy were still working the datacoms, trying to reach Jaime. Finally they settled for trying to get a message through to her.

''Honey, if you're hurt and can't answer us,'' Rudy began, ''there are Search teams headed in your direction right now - and an ambulance has been dispatched. Hang on...the cavalry's coming!''

* * *

Jaime heard the voice over the datacom...but it barely registered in her mind as she concentrated on forcing her breath into Steve's lungs. With one hand she tore more of the canvas shroud away and reached for his left wrist. He had a pulse - _he was alive_- but still not breathing. She pinched his nose shut yet again and gave him two more quick breaths then watched his chest closely. Still nothing. Jaime could hear sirens beginning to wail from the direction of National Medical and the footfalls of at least a dozen men hurrying toward them from several directions.

''We see you!'' Someone called through a bullhorn, piercing through the darkness with a ray of hope. ''We're coming!''

Jaime heard him but didn't look up from the task at hand. Two more breaths...still nothing. No response. She cradled Steve's head in one arm, still tipping it back carefully, and her other hand rose to caress his cheek. ''_I love you_, she whispered softly between giving him more breaths. ''Please stay with me...'' She didn't jump or stray from what she was determined to do, even when the next bolt of lightning hit both of her ankles as she knelt on the ground. Two more breaths...

Finally, the first Search team reached them. Their leader knelt beside Jaime and put a hand on her shoulder. ''I'll take over here, Ma'am,'' he said gently. ''Why don't you let my men take a look at you?''

Jaime leaned in one more time for two more breaths...and a tender kiss to her husband's non-responsive lips. ''_Help him_,'' she pleaded.

More and more search teams were flooding the area. One found the datacom where Jaime had dropped it and heard Mark still talking, still trying to reassure and reach her. He handed the device to Jaime as another man covered her legs with a blanket and an entire team moved to surround Steve.

''Mark...?'' she transmitted in a _very _small voice. ''Steve...he's not...breathing!''

The men in Rudy's lab were also listening to the first reports from Search and Rescue. Things sounded grim at first, but they were working on Steve and if Jaime had gotten to him in time and was successful in breathing for him enough to keep him going, there was definitely reason to hope. Another voice had transmitted ''Notify Rudy Wells that Subject Number Two has apparently been hit by lightning. Her ankles and feet...ah...they're going to need some help.''

Mark over heard this as he was listening to Jaime. ''Steve's in good hands,'' he assured her. ''So are you. The ambulance should be there any second now.''

''I hear it,'' Jaime confirmed. ''Mark? I...I tried to breath...for him...the best I could...but I don't know if...'' Finally, with a team taking care of her husband, she allowed herself to break down in tears.

''You did great, Honey,'' Rudy told her (also listening to multiple transmissions at once). ''You found him and you kept him going the very best you could. You took good care of him; now let the rescuers take care of you, too.'' He nodded to Mark to resume talking with Jaime, keeping her calm, while he headed into his office to call his complex in Colorado Springs. He needed them to ship out the pair of legs that were crafted and waiting there. It sounded like Jaime was going to need them.

* * *

By the time the ambulance arrived at National, they had Steve breathing on his own again (however weakly) and were administering oxygen. Michael's first look at him told the story: there had been _two _hits from the tranquilizer gun and with the sedation and pain meds already in his system, the second dart had very nearly killed him...would, in fact, have killed him...if it hadn't been for Jaime.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

A team of doctors (with Michael at the head) rushed Steve off to the ICU while Rudy and Mark remained with Jaime. ''He'll be okay, Honey,'' Rudy promised. Gentle hands lifted Jaime back into her bed and Rudy re-attached her IV, injecting a combo of meds that would allow her to rest. ''I don't know how you did it - how you found him out in the middle of nowhere - but he's going to be alright.''

Oscar had stopped off first at the ICU and while he was waiting for further word from Steve's doctors, he stopped up on the third floor to see Jaime, just after her meds had been administered. Her eye lids were drooping (and she had every reason to be exhausted, considering how far she'd traveled in the middle of the night) but she managed a quiet smile for her boss-to-be.

''Hi Babe,'' he said softly. ''When you're stronger and have had a chance to rest, we'll have to talk about your _methods_, but it was a beautiful thing you did tonight; you saved Steve's life and I am _so_ proud of you.''

''You're...proud of me...even though I...messed up?'' Jaime asked. But she was sound asleep before Oscar could answer her.

Mark was waiting at her bedside a few hours later when Jaime opened her eyes. ''I have good news for you,'' he said with a soft smile.

''Steve...?''

Mark nodded. ''He had a little bit of internal bleeding; probably being thrown from the van exacerbated his injuries - but he's already out of surgery and doing well. He's going to be alright. And they'll be moving him out of ICU tomorrow.''

''I should probably say I'm sorry for running off in the middle of the night like that,'' Jaime began, ''except...I'm not.''

''Once again,'' Mark told her, ''you're alive, Steve is alive - that means _you did it right_...okay?''

''I thought...I was gonna lose it out there...would've been so easy to just let go! Mark, I even...I felt myself blacking out...but I fought it. And...I won!''

Mark beamed at her. He didn't think he'd ever known a patient to come this far, this quickly before. She'd been in emotional tatters from everything Grant Kingsley and Cobra had put her through - and she'd somehow found the strength to not only track down where Steve had been dumped but had kept him alive long enough for the medics to reach him, even while injured herself. ''You are amazing,'' he exulted. ''And you didn't hear the best part of my news yet.''

''Tell me!''

''Well...I know this is supposed to be a private room, but how do you feel about getting a roommate?''

If she hadn't been tethered to an IV and various monitors, Jaime would've been bouncing on the bed! ''Steve? He's coming...in _here?_''

''I would say you've _both _definitely earned it.''

Jaime smiled, then a burst of pain jolted through her and she grimaced. ''I guess I won't be standing on my own two feet for awhile though, huh? Seeing as my feet are sort of...gone.''

''Rudy'll have you good as new before you know it,'' Mark promised. ''In fact, I understand what you need is already on the way here. Rudy said surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning. And when you get back...''

''Steve is gonna be here!'' she said happily...then winced again in pain.

''I'll find Rudy and he can take a better look at you, now that you're awake. Be right back, okay?'' Mark didn't know a lot about bionics but he did know that they normally didn't _hurt_.

Once Mark tracked Rudy down (in his office, checking again with Colorado Springs), the older doctor agreed with him - and offered an explanation. ''Jaime's feet are gone - along with most of her ankles - and while the bionics themselves don't feel pain, they _are_ connected to real nerves in order to 'work' correctly. If the lightning strike blew out wires further up her legs than I thought, the main circuits may be blown and the connections to Jaime's _real_ nerve endings might be getting tiny, almost imperceptible jolts of current - which can mean real, human pain.'' He saw the confused look on Mark's face...and patted him on the back. ''I'll take a look.''

''Exactly what I was telling you,'' Rudy explained to Mark when he examined Jaime's ankles (or what was left of them). He looked up at Jaime, smoothing the blanket back down over her legs. ''Your main circuits are blown, Honey. We're very lucky the current from that lightning strike didn't travel the rest of the way up your legs; it could've killed you.'' He moved up from the foot of the bed to take Jaime's hand before delivering the rest of the news. ''The shocks you're feeling could get stronger - and more dangerous. I'll need to remove your legs...but the new ones should be here in just a few hours. We'll tune you down and keep you asleep until we can get you all fixed up. You'll just be having an extra-long, extra-deep sleep. Okay?''

Jaime nodded, her eyes clouded and frightened. Mark smiled at her. ''And remember...'' he told her, ''when you get back up here after surgery...''

''Steve's gonna be here!'' Suddenly, in spite of everything, Jaime's world (and her outlook) were bright once again.

* * *

It was the oddest looking hospital room the assembled group of doctors had ever seen. Two beds, pushed directly next to each other, with IV's and monitors behind the heads of the beds (within reach of the free side of each bed, should they need to be adjusted). It would simply mean a few more steps to get around to the free side of the bed closer to the window (Jaime's) to tend to her needs...but no matter; this particular pair of patients deserved every bit of extra effort and adjustment necessary to keep them close together. They had _earned _it.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Steve woke first (as his surgery had been hours before Jaime's). The first word from his lips was his wife's name...and Michael smiled at him and motioned for Steve to look to his side. He saw Jaime lying there and beamed...just before his eyes clouded darkly with worry. ''She's so...pale,'' he whispered (still not entirely conscious, but getting there).

''She's had surgery too. We'll tell you all about it once you're more fully awake,'' Michael promised.

''Tell me now. Please? What happened to her - and to me?'' His voice was barely audible, in fear that he'd wake her up.

''She's been heavily sedated for now; she can't hear us,'' Rudy chimed in. He had been (and still was) keeping watch on Jaime's side of the room while Michael was ensconced next to Steve - and Mark was in the back of the room observing and standing by in case he was needed.

Apparently, he was needed now. ''Steve, what's the last thing you remember?'' Mark asked him, moving to the foot of what was basically a double-width hospital bed.

''I went to sleep,'' Steve said simply. ''Was it...last night?''

''Yes, it was. Is that all you remember?''

''Until waking up here...yes,'' Steve confirmed. ''Worry about me later. What happened...to Jaime?''

''She's had both legs replaced, Steve,'' Rudy told him. ''We're keeping her asleep for now, to make sure she doesn't reject them.''

''But she just _had_...how...?'' Steve knew that two bionic replacements in such rapid succession sent the chance of rejection through the roof - and it terrified him.

''We're giving her coumadin to ward off any potential blood clots,'' Michael assured him. ''We're on top of it before it has a chance to even take hold. Jaime should be fine. She just needs to rest awhile and then we'll have her up and moving again. Gradually, of course.''

Since Steve kept asking questions (when they really wanted him to be resting too), the doctors gently filled him in on what had happened overnight. He was stunned that he'd had absolutely no awareness of any of it and when he heard that the second dart should've - and probably would have - killed him, he reached through the twin guardrails to gently clasp his sleeping wife's hand. Not one man in the room was about to tell him he couldn't.

* * *

Three days later (about 48 hours after they'd allowed Jaime to wake up), she was getting cranky. When Michael and Rudy came in for their morning rounds, she scowled (but with a twinkle in her eye that was reassuring to see). ''Look - I can wriggle my toes on the left, on the right...and even both together! I can bend my legs at the knees. I can even sit up without raising the bed. So...when can I actually put these new feet on the floor?''

Steve chuckled, both bemused and charmed by her 'cranky' monologue. ''She's been like this since we woke up, Docs - over an hour now,'' he told them. ''She's just mad because with me here she can't sneak out of bed on her own.''

''He needs a sedative,'' Jaime shot back.

''Sounds like you're both feeling better this morning,'' Michael noted. ''Steve, how's the pain?''

''It's pain,'' he answered.

Michael sighed. ''One to ten, please.''

''About a six,'' Steve admitted honestly.

Jaime had to look away while Michael checked out Steve's badly insulted midsection. The bruise from the kick had turned a multitude of colors that flooded Jaime with guilt when she saw it and she couldn't bear to look. The bruising had spread across both sides toward his ribcage from being jostled about and then thrown from the back of the van into the patch of rocks. No one had been able to get the guard who used to be '03' to remember (if he ever knew) _why_ he was to leave Steve there unconscious, but the bright side was that all of Kingsley's 'automatons' were now out of service. The reign of terror was truly over. After a long conference between the scientists, the doctors and the 'suits' from the OSI, it was decided that rather than studying Kingsley's devices, they were to be destroyed immediately. As Rudy put it to the entire conference, ''No one in the world needs that kind of power. _No one_.''

''Something for the pain,'' Michael said, adjusting Steve's IV.

''And as for you, Young Lady,'' Rudy began, heading to Jaime's side of the bed, ''I think you just might be too feisty to keep in bed any longer. Let's get you up and walking around the room today. How's that sound?''

''The room? Can I try for down the hall and back?''

''Now who needs a sedative?'' Steve joked. ''And Rudy...I know you. You're bursting at the seams about _something_. What's going on? C'mon...spill it!''

''He can't,'' Oscar said from the doorway (where he stood with Mark). ''Because it's _my_good news to share.''

''Good news is always welcome here,'' Jaime told them all.

Oscar and Mark moved to stand at the foot of the bed. Steve and Jaime were surrounded by people who were grinning like canary-fed cats.

''Well somebody...out with it!'' Jaime giggled.

''The two of you have truly been through Hell and back,'' Mark began. ''You saved each other's lives - you saved many, _many _lives - and you've fought harder than anyone any of us have ever seen...to survive and to be together.''

''So I've arranged a bit of a health-restoring reward for you,'' Oscar told them. ''Especially seeing how you never got to have a honeymoon. The OSI has a little island - a _private_ island - near Paradise Island in the Bahamas. It's very secluded - only two cabins, one on each side of the island and separated by enough trees, plants and flowers that you'll never know you aren't completely alone. Except every morning, that is - when Rudy and Mark will pay you a visit. So help, should you need it, is just a datacom call and a short trip across the island away. Other than that, rest, recuperation - and _time alone together_- for two weeks...starting as soon as your doctors say you're well enough to go.''

''Hell with that,'' Steve said happily. ''I say we go now!'' Jaime leaned over and whispered something in his ear and - probably for the first time ever - Colonel Steve Austin blushed. ''On second thought,'' he amended, ''we'll wait 'til the docs release us and we're strong enough to...um...enjoy the surroundings.''

Not a person in the room could disagree with _that_!

END


End file.
